HALLUCINATE | THE SANDMAN

TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
[ Power ]
"That is the only explanation I have
for such a... gruesome sight."

MORPHEUS WASN'T ONE TO LET OTHERS DEFY HIM. No one ever dared to even try, but Azrail was different, as she always was. Even when he opened his mouth to tell her to leave, she shook her head and clamped a hand over his mouth. She hushed him, promised him she'd be fine.

          The Grim Reaper was truly unlike any other being to inhabit this twisted world they call their own.

           "Okay," Morpheus finally obliged with Azrail's persistence. "However, if this does not work, and the wall falls..."

            "Morpheus," Azrail interjected, clasping a hand around his mouth as per usual when she was sick of hearing him speak. She managed a crooked smile with her chapped lips. "I am not going anywhere and you're just going to have to live that." Slowly, she lifted her hand, waiting for a reaction only to receive nothing other then a small, almost invisible nod from the Dream King. "Good, now... there's a small problem."

                 The respect Morpheus held along his face faded in the blink of an eye as sudden annoyance warped through his entrancing eyes. "...What?" he asked slowly.

                   "Something's wrong with Maeve, I can't sense her."

                     Azrail pushed past Morpheus, clutching both her hands around her scythe protectively as a sudden weird pain filled her chest. She didn't like the feeling, and as she looked down the dark hall, she feared she'd soon see Maeve's spirit lurking through the walls. No one ever knew what could hurt Maeve. That was a secret the one true God kept close to His chest, but Azrail predicted that a Vortex could potentially damage her sister's immortality in ways other beings are incapable of doing.

                       "That's not the only thing," Morpheus murmured, looking away from the Angel of Death as she quickly turned to him. He looked up slowly as if searching for some answer from a higher power. "The Dreaming... I don't know what's happening." His jaw clenched. "You need to find Rose, I have to deal with the Corinthian."

When he finally looked over to her, he noticed her she hugged her scythe, hands clenched into fists around the thin staff. A look of distress, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, was present upon her expression.

Azrail huffed. "Just don't die," she spat. "Frankly, I don't wanna be scraping your soul off the pavement."

"Azrail," Morpheus had called, once again catching the Angel of Death's immediate attention. He struggled with his voice, taking a few hesitant steps forward to close the large gap. His lips parted with thought, pondering carefully before he made eye contact with her. He grasped her sleeves arms before dragging his hands down to tender grab her own. It felt warm in her deathly grasp. "I am sorry," he confessed softly.